Dementia
by Shadow Katt
Summary: Something is happening to Professor Snape. Is he losing his mind or has he fallen under a curse?


Disclaimer: I dont own HP nor the characters.

Behind cold, thick stone walls, a figure sleeps in his bed. The bed is small, as is the tiny cell it is in. A dull grey blanket covers the sleeping form and he shivers slightly in his sleep. A fluorescent light in the corridor outside his cell flickers on and off, creating an eerie effect on the already creepy cell.  


The man murmurs in his sleep and jolts awake, looking wildly around his surroundings. He squints in the darkness glancing around his cell, the panic setting in. Where was he? He shuts his dark eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, feeling slick strands of hair fall in his face and against his forehead. When he opens his eyes, the atmosphere has changed.  
  


He was sitting upright in a large bed, a black velvet canopy over him. Pillows of dark green satin were scattered behind him, and the blanket covering his bottom half was thick and luxurious. Low torchlight illuminated the handsome room, reflecting off bottles of every color. A faint sweet smell, a familiar smell, fluttered into his senses as he looked down. The most beautiful, brilliant girl he had ever known lay asleep next to him, her wavy sienna colored hair falling like liquid over the green satin pillow beneath her. She mumbled something and her eyes opened.  
  


"Professor, are you alright?" she asked softly, propping her sleepy head onto her palm.  
  


"H-h-Hermione." Snape felt disoriented from his dream.  
  


Hermione smiled. "Yes, that's me. Severus, did you have a bad dream?" Her big brown eyes showed concern.  
  


"Dream, yes. I had a dream." Snape looked down at his lap, smoothing a wrinkle from the thick dark blanket before reclining back onto his green pillow. Hermione rested her head on his chest and he wrapped an arm around her.  
  


"What was it about?" she asked him through a wide yawn.  
  


"I – don't remember really." The Potions Master said, staring ahead at a twinkling torch. "I was somewhere cold – and lonely."  
  


"Well you're not lonely now." Hermione smiled sweetly at him.  
  


"No – I'm not." Snape sighed. A moment later he felt Hermione's thin body surrender to sleep in relaxation as he lay in bed, eyes open. The potions professor occasionally glanced up at his black canopy, but his eyes mostly followed the dancing shadows the torch light projected on the wall. If only he could remember what he had dreamt about before waking up? He was somewhere cold, and small. It was also very dark.   
  


Azkaban Prison ---?  
  


Snape closed his eyes and thought hard. No, it couldn't have been. He distinctly remembered a flickering fluorescent light.  
  


The words Muggle prison bounced around his head before he finally gave in to sleep.  
  


When he awoke again, the sunlight shone brightly through his chamber window. Hermione was gone, as she always was when he woke up, most likely getting ready for her classes. He kicked his feet over the side of his bed and headed for his lavatory. He noticed a Gryffindor robe slung over a nearby chair. Severus climbed out of black boxer shorts and stepped into a green marble shower. As he turned the handle, steaming hot water cascaded over him. He felt it seep into his greasy hair and over his pale face.  
  


The water turned cold. He gasped loudly and opened his eyes, ugly grey tiles surrounded him and rusted metal pipes wound their way up the wall, spewing dirty, cold water on him. Something bumped against his back and he spun around to face whatever it was. Nothing was there, just the green marble wall with cut outs for his soaps and shampoos. He swallowed hard and turned back to the stream of warm water.  
  


"Severus…" came a familiar whisper behind him. That voice he knew that voice, it was one he hadn't heard in years. He turned quickly around again but lost his footing on the slick marble floor, falling on his bum. He swore to himself and reached up to shut off the water. He stumbled to his feet and wrapped a black silky towel around his middle. It was going to be a long day.  
  


An hour later Snape stormed into the Potions classroom, his black robes following like liquid. The pain in his bum didn't stop him from walking in the most intimidating manner he could muster.  
  


"Wands away, quills out." He said as he pointed his black wand at the chalkboard. The ingredients for the potion his class would be conjuring today appeared. He spun around and looked at the room full of seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Hermione sat eagerly in the first row next to Neville Longbottom. The sight of her softened his heart immediately.  
  


He had been seeing Hermione Granger for about six weeks. He wouldn't deny that since her sixth year he was finding himself attracted to the Gryffindor. It was true; she was quite beautiful, long wavy hair, big brown eyes, and soft skin. It was not her looks alone that caught his attention, it was that amazing mind of hers. For most of her sixth year, Snape did nothing but confess to shadows what he thought of her. It was maddening, knowing he would never be able to be with her. When she came back to Hogwarts in September as Head Girl, she seemed smarter then she ever had in the past. Every time he would see her in class or the corridors or the Great Hall she seemed to be silently calling out to him. Her eyes said it all. He knew that he would most likely not get a chance to see Hermione from the inside.  
  


Until Halloween night.  
  


Hermione and Draco, who was Head Boy this year, had organized a masquerade for Halloween. He was sure the students had a great time, everyone hiding behind glittering masks. On Dumbledore's orders, Snape himself wore a black mask, blending in with the sea of students and faculty. Just when he thought he could take the giggling and modern music no longer, he saw her standing alone beneath a window, alone. Her sparkling mask was on, but a wave of sienna hair spilled over her shoulders, and Snape would know that hair anywhere. He looked around and saw Potter and Weasley with some Gryffindor girls, dancing and having a great time. He wondered why Miss Granger was alone near the wall.  
  


He slowly started to cross the ocean of students and everything in him screamed to stop. He couldn't stop, he kept walking towards the lonely seventh year girl. After what felt like miles, he reached her.  
  


She looked confused by his presence. "Professor, is that you?" she asked him.  
  


"Why are you by yourself, Miss Granger? Why aren't you with your fellow Gryffindors?" Snape motioned to where Harry danced with Ginny and Ron with Lavender Brown.  
  


"I supposed I didn't feel like dancing." Hermione swallowed hard, and took a step towards the Potions Master, looking up into his big dark eyes.  
  


The heat between the few inches that separated them was unbearable. Snape took a breath.  
  


"Professor was there something you needed?" she asked.  
  


Something he needed? Yes,_ he needed her_, like oxygen. He couldn't ever remember being so close to her. He looked around, there were hundreds of people all around them, yet he had never felt so invisible in his entire life. There was something there, some kind of foreboding. He looked down at this girl, one he had admired from afar for years, and now she looked like a piece of forbidden fruit. Something inside him stirred and it was telling him to kiss her. That was ridiculous, Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, does not just kiss Hogwarts students. He wanted to though, he wanted to taste her badly.  
  


Hermione bit her bottom lip gently and glanced to her side. She then looked back up at him, and gathering every ounce of courage she had, she did it. She closed the distance between herself and Snape, standing on her toes, kissing him. The normal Snape reaction was to tell her off for doing something so foolish in a room full of other students. However, something else was taking over. The something else was kissing Miss Granger back, something Snape had only fantasized about for the past year.  
  


That was six weeks ago. He and Hermione had been seeing each other since that night. She usually came to his chambers late at night and left to go back to Gryffindor tower before the other students woke up. Snape knew it was a dangerous thing, but it was a chance he was now willing to take. Since starting his relationship with Hermione he had felt better overall. She was making life fun, in a way, again.  
  


It was now December thirteenth and as he delivered a lecture on the proper uses of magical fungi, it took all his strength not to smile when Hermione caught his eye.  
  


"More extract will be available if you shred the toadstools instead of simply chopping them…" Snape said sharply, keeping a close eye on the all the students, determined to catch a daydreamer. "I have full sized Algerian toadstools here." He turned around to his desk, where he knew a crate of mushrooms sat.  
  


When the professor turned around he felt eyes upon him, not the students eyes, something attempting to penetrate his soul. He felt a chill and looked up, above his desk at the stone wall. He blinked hard and when he opened his eyes again, he was back in the same place as his dream. A tiny grey cell enclosed him. Professor Snape took a deep breath.   
  


"Is this a hex of some kind?" he said out loud. He turned to face the front of the cell, and on the other side of the bars, a white being of some kind lurked in the shadows, staring at Snape with piercing eyes.  
  


"Hex?" The being asked, but its voice was muffled as if far away.  
  


Snape felt a great lurch as if he was on a roller coaster and looked up. Nineteen seventh years stared at him blankly. Hermione, in the front row bit her bottom lip in concern.  
  


'_Severus_?' she mouthed to him.  
  


The Potions Master collected his thoughts as he swallowed hard. He could feel a bead of sweat on his forehead.  
  


What was happening to him?  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A/N: Chapter 2 will be up shortly. Please review and tell me what you think.  



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